


When Two Humans and a Togruta Walk Into a Kitchen

by AnotherAmericanTragedy_20



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Food Fight, Other, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28162152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAmericanTragedy_20/pseuds/AnotherAmericanTragedy_20
Summary: ... it fails spectacularly.{"Well," Ahsoka started, trying to break the ice. "What do we do now?""We'll have to," Anakin stopped, and gulped, as if swallowing something particularly vile. "We'll have to cook."}
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64





	When Two Humans and a Togruta Walk Into a Kitchen

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, okay, okay. I promised myself, no long author’s notes, but… three words. Artoo Fucking Deetwo. Except, there’s more. Boba Fucking Fett Book. Except, there’s ever more. Ready, ready… 
> 
> LUKE FUCKING SKYWALKER OH MY FUCKING GOD THAT’S THE BEST SHIT EVER AND OFIEGFEOIFGIFNFYNFIAUHFGEF. If you haven’t watched the new Mando episode, go. Watch. It. Now. 
> 
> Also, I’m sure not all of these ingredients exist in Star Wars, and they’re probably called different things, but for the sake of crack, work with me?
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“Well,” Ahsoka started, trying to break the ice. “What do we do now?” Anakin glared at her, Obi-Wan gave a half-depressed sigh, and R2 seemed to be the only one not troubled by the situation.

“We’ll have to,” He stopped, and gulped, as if swallowing something particularly vile. “We’ll have to  _ cook.”  _ Ahsoka raised a facial marking.

“Can’t be that hard, Master.” He shook his head, patting her arm sympathetically. 

“Snips, it is literally impossible to cook with Obi-Wan- without burning the temple down, that is.” She looked at Obi-Wan, waiting for him to squawk indignantly, or correct Anakin, something of the like. He just kept his head down, muttering, 

“The  _ one  _ day Dex’s is closed…” 

“Wait a second,” She started, furrowing her brow. “Why don’t we just go to the Dining Hall?” Anakin stopped his moping, pulling up his face to look her eye to eye.

“Snips… you do realize what day it is.” She felt a sinking feeling in the bottom of her stomach.

“Kark.” Anakin, nor Obi-Wan, corrected her on her language. It was common knowledge for Jedi to steer clear of the Temple’s dining hall on Taco Taungsday. Last time she had eaten there on that day, she was seven years old, and had to spend a week in the Halls of Healing. She was  _ not  _ doing that again, thank you very much. 

“So… we’ll have to cook.”

“We’ll have to cook.” Obi-Wan repeated back numbly. Ahsoka tried to grin.

“How hard can it be?” And if what happened next  _ wasn’t  _ karma, she wasn’t sure what was.

***

“So, any requests?” Anakin asked, stepping into their kitchen.

“Just something edible, please.” Obi-Wan commented, unhelpfully. Anakin pointed the spatula he had grabbed at him.

“You’re one to talk. Snips, grab the datapad?” She plucked the datapad off the counter, and started scrolling through the holonet. 

“Nope, nope, absolutely not, maybe, eww, no- Master, can we have roasted Porg?” He raised an unimpressed scarred eyebrow.

“Do you see any Porg anywhere?” 

_ “Do you see Porg anywhere?”  _ She mocked his voice underneath her breath. He jabbed her in the shoulder with his spatula in retaliation. 

“How about this one?” Obi-Wan asked, looking over her shoulder. “Crait-Cakes? It seems unhealthy enough that you’ll both enjoy it,  _ and  _ the recipe says that it’s Carnivorous friendly.”

“How can it be Carnivorous friendly if there’s no meat?” Ahsoka asked, looking over the recipe. Anakin shrugged, and threw her an apron.  _ Where did he get that?  _

“Beats me. Do we have all the stuff?” She started listing the ingredients.

“Vanilla, sugar, eggs, flour, chocolate, chocolate powder-”

“Cocoa Powder.” Anakin not-so-helpfully supplied. She rolled her eyes.

“ _ Cocoa Powder,  _ t here, you satisfied?"

"Yup!" She ignored him.

“Sugar, bantha milk, and… food dye?” Anakin had been pulling the ingredients out as he went.

“Yup, yup,  _ and,  _ yup! Got ‘em.” Ahsoka looked over the ingredients, giving them a satisfactory nod.

“Wait- why do you  _ have  _ food dye, exactly?” Obi-Wan clamped his hand firmly over Anakin’s mouth before he could say anything, his face flushing the same red as the food dye.

“That, Padawan, is a story for another time.” Anakin finally managed to wrestle Obi-Wan’s hand off his face. His mouth fell into his signature smirk. 

“Wait, Master, you don’t want her to know about the Red Dye Number Four incident of 20 BBY, when you-” Obi-Wan muffled Anakin’s voice again with his hand. He gave Ahsoka a strained smile. “Why don’t you put on the apron?” 

***

Thirty minutes later, and they were no closer to when they’d started.

“No, Obi-Wan, you use the metal things for the dry ingredients, and the glass ones are for the liquid!”

“No, Snips, you tie around your back, see, not in whatever weird thing you’re doing with your montrals.”

“No, R2, you can’t help.”

“No, Master. See, this is why I don’t let you near the kitchen.”

“No, Ahsoka, we have to preheat the  _ stovetop,  _ not the oven.”

“No, we have to- you know what? Forget it.”

***

Ahsoka knew that if she concentrated  _ really  _ hard, she could block out his voice. She just had to sink a little deeper into the force, and curse her montrals for being so sensitive-

“Ahsoka, I told you, you use the non-sharp side of the knife.” And  _ nope,  _ somehow, Anakin Skywaker’s voice penetrated through her, admittedly poor, meditative skills. 

“I  _ am  _ using the non-sharp side-” Oh. Wait.  _ No, no, stupid serrated side-  _ Anakin grinned triumphantly. She sighed in defeat, switching over the side of the knife, and sliding off the excess flour back into the container. “So, where’d you learn to cook, anyway? And why do you hate it so much?” Anakin shrugged indifferently as he cracked an egg expertly into a bowl.

“My mom taught me. And, uh, I guess I don’t  _ hate  _ it, or anything, it just, I don’t really know, I guess?” Ahsoka nodded, pretending for both their sakes that she didn’t understand what he really meant.  _ How can the big, great, powerful Hero With No Fear excel at something mundane like cooking? _

“Obi-Wan,  _ no.  _ How is it possible for you to burn the bantha milk?! You weren’t anywhere near the stove-” She hummed to a tune she had heard over the radio, something catchy. They worked in silence for several more minutes, Anakin coaching them on what to do.

Eventually, they had what Anakin called the “dry ingredients” in one bowl, and the “wet ingredients” in the other. She sagged back against the counter in relief. Who knew cooking could be so exhausting? 

“Okay, Snips, over here.” Break over.

“Hold up this bowl, yeah, just like that, keep it steady. And I’m just gonna use this here, and I’ll scrap it in… yeah, good.” He kept the wet ingredient bowl steady with the force as he mixed in the flour mixture.

“It’s called folding it in, Snips.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She smiled, despite herself. 

“Okay, who wants to do the food dye?” Obi-Wan shrugged, walking over.

“Even I can’t mess this up.” Anakin grinned.

“Sure, whatever you say, Master. Careful, oh no, the food dye’s going to get me! Oh no, run Ahsoka, it’s the food dye monster! We’re not gonna make it, every person for themselves-” Fed up with Anakin’s antics, Obi-Wan squirted the little food dye bottle at his face, successfully spraying his face with red dye. Anakin sputtered while Ahsoka laughed. Suddenly, he turned on her.

“Think that’s funny?” He grabbed the jar of flour, and using his mechanical hand to screw the lid off, he used the force to chuck some flour at her. She shook her head, the sensation of the flour weird on her montrals.

“You’re on, Skyguy.” She grabbed the bowl of batter from out of Obi-Wan’s hands, flinging a glob of it at Anakin- only for him to duck, and the little ball of dough smacked Obi-Wan in his face. He got a strangely calm expression on his face, or what Anakin would call, his “Politician Face.” Then he grabbed the cartoon of eggs, and flung one back at her. 

***

The kitchen had turned into a war zone. She had laid claim to the table, and had a small army of spices and candies at her disposal. Obi-Wan had reclaimed the batter bowl and the egg cartoon. 

Anakin soon realized that the flour was not a powerful enough adversary against their weapons, until he realized, (with hellish glee, might Asoka add,) that water and flour made glue. All in all, she figured it was a pretty fair fight. 

She and Anakin decided they wanted to gang up on Obi-Wan. She would, of course, betray him later, and become the ultimate food fight winner, but not yet. 

“And… now!” Under Anakin’s command (and she just realized she had been calling him Anakin in her head for a… while, now. It felt… right.) She went for Obi-Wan’s legs, while Anakin snatched the batter bowl back, face somehow still looking menacing, even with cinnamon in his hair and an egg yolk dripping down his temple.

With deadly accuracy, he held the food bowl over Obi-Wan’s head, letting the thick red liquid slowly drip down the older man’s face. Ahsoka watched in satisfaction. Then, letting Obi-Wan sit in a sticky, dripping pile of what she called defeat, she turned back to Anakin, a slow, feral grin coming over her face, sharp canines exposed. 

“No, no- Ahsoka, Snips, come on, no-”

***

They laid, scattered in their various positions, around the apartment. Glue and Crait-Cake batter dripped from the wall. Flour and spices coated every surface. The lone, soul survivor of the damage, was R2. Who, Ahsoka knew, in his beady little mechanical mind, was laughing victoriously, filming every bit. 

She sighed, thunking her head against the floor from where it had been cushioned by the overturned couch pillow. How a pillow made it to the kitchen, she’d never know. 

She groaned, and rolled over to where to look where Anakin lay a few feet away from her, feet propped up against an overturned kitchen chair. 

Obi-Wan sat on the ground, slumped against the still-on oven. She breathed in deep, and closed her eyes. Anakin’s voice broke the silence.

“So, ration bar, anyone?” Obi-Wan made a mumbling noise in agreement. 

“Yeah,” She conceded. “Ration bar.”

***

“So, I won, right?”

“Not a chance, Snips.”

Oh, she definitely won. 

**Author's Note:**

> ALSO ALSO ALSO I JUST REALIZED SOMETHING THAT MADE ME GO AAAAAAA. LUKE Skywalker. George LUCAS. Just saying. There’s probably not any connection, but- frlergiv2vi2brvipbrviphtrb. Anyway, I hope this boosted you serotonin levels a bit!
> 
> Comments/bookmarks/kudos are always appreciated! Thanks for reading!


End file.
